1344 lines
50 KiB
HTML
1344 lines
50 KiB
HTML
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<h1>The Bottle Deposit (2)</h1>
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<p align="left">Transcribed by: Mark Brockbank, Barrow-in-Furness<br>
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<br>
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----<br>
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<br>
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7.22 "The Bottle Deposit (2)"<br>
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<br>
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Episode Number: 132<br>
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Original Air Date: May 02, 1996<br>
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<br>
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Written by: Gregg Kavet & Andy Robin<br>
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Directed by: Andy Ackerman<br>
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<br>
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Guest Cast:<br>
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Brad Garrett (Tony)<br>
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Mary Jo Keenen (Deena)<br>
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Rance Howard (Farmer)<br>
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Nicholas Mele (Detective)<br>
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Karen Lynn Scott (Farmer's Daughter)<br>
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Sandy Ward (Pop)<br>
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Dan O'Connor (Young Cop)<br>
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Bonnie McNeil (Woman)<br>
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<br>
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<br>
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[Montage of snippets]<br>
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<br>
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JERRY (V.O.): Last week on Seinfeld.<br>
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<br>
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A sequence of clips from The Bottle Deposit (1) establishes the story
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<br>
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so far:<br>
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Newman and Kramer are using a USPS mail truck to run deposit bottles <br>
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and cans to Michigan, in order to collect 10 cents on each of them. George
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has been <br>
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given an assignment by Mr Wilhelm, but he hasn't a clue what it is. Elaine
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<br>
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outbids Sue-Ellen Mishke at an auction, to buy John F Kennedy's golf clubs
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on <br>
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behalf of Mr Peterman, and leaves them in the back of Jerry's car. Kramer
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and <br>
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Newman have left groceries under the hood of Jerry's car, meaning Jerry
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has to take <br>
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it to Tony the mechanic, who loves the car more than Jerry does. When
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Jerry <br>
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asks for his car back, Tony flees in it, taking JFK's clubs with him.<br>
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<br>
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<br>
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[Outside Auto Shop]<br>
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<br>
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Jerry and Elaine are outside the autoshop. Jerry is on the payphone.<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: Okay, thank you. (hangs up the phone)<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: So? What'd they say?<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: They're sending a detective to my apartment tomorrow.<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: What the hell were you thinking leaving my clubs in that car?!<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: Well, I didn't count on my mechanic pulling a Mary-Beth <br>
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Whitehead, did I?<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: What kind of maniac is this guy?<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: He's a very special maniac.<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: What am I supposed to tell Mr Peterman.<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: I don't know.<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: Why couldn't you take better care of that car?!<br>
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<br>
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<br>
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[Elaine's Office]<br>
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<br>
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Elaine at her desk. Peterman enters.<br>
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<br>
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PETERMAN: Well, are they here?<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: Mr Peterman, uh... There seems to be a bit of a snag.<br>
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<br>
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PETERMAN: Snag?<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: It seems that a psychotic mechanic has absconded with my <br>
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friend's car.<br>
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<br>
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PETERMAN: What does that have to do with my clubs?<br>
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<br>
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ELAINE: They happened to be in the back seat at the time.<br>
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<br>
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<br>
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[Jerry's Apartment]<br>
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<br>
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Jerry is talking with a police detective at his door.<br>
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<br>
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DETECTIVE: What was the suspect wearing at the time of the incident?<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: You know, like mechanic's pants, a shirt that said 'Tony'. Lemme
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<br>
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ask you something, have you ever seen a case like this before?<br>
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<br>
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DETECTIVE: All the time. A mechanic forms an emotional attachment, <br>
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thinks he'sgonna lose the car, he panics, he does something rash. I'm
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|
gonna ask <br>
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|
you somepersonal questions. I'm sorry if I touch a nerve, but I think
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|
it'll <br>
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|
help with the case. Had you been taking good care of the car?<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: Had I been taking...?<br>
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<br>
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DETECTIVE: Well, did you leave the A/C on? Do you zip over speed bumps?
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<br>
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Do you ride the clutch? Things like that.<br>
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|
<br>
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JERRY: W-well, what does it matter? It's my car, I can do whatever I <br>
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want with it.<br>
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<br>
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The detective stares at Jerry.<br>
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<br>
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JERRY: Not that I would think of doing such things.<br>
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<br>
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DETECTIVE: (making a note) Alright Mr Seinfeld, we'll let you know if
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<br>
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|
we find anything. I gotta be honest with you, these cases never end up
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|
well.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
JERRY: Well uh, whatever you can do. Thanks.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
<br>
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[Yankee Stadium: George's Office]<br>
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<br>
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|
George sits at his desk, his forehead resting on a folder he has <br>
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|
clutched in his hands. Mr Wilhelm enters, looking happy.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
GEORGE: (hesitant) Uh, Mr Wilhelm. Uh, about the project...<br>
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|
<br>
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|
WILHELM: That's what I came to talk to you about. Great job George. <br>
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|
(shakes George's hand) You really nailed it.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
GEORGE: I did?<br>
|
|
<br>
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|
WILHELM: Oh yes, I read through it this morning. I couldn't have done
|
|
<br>
|
|
it better myself, and I turned it right over to Mr Steinbrenner. Good
|
|
work <br>
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|
George.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
Wilhelm leaves. George looks stunned and confused.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
<br>
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|
[Jerry's Apartment]<br>
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<br>
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|
By now, George is looking much more pleased.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
JERRY: I don't get it. He assigns it to you, you don't do it. Somehow
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|
<br>
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|
it gets done, and now he's telling you what a great job you did.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Maybe somebody did it and didn't take credit for it. Maybe it
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|
<br>
|
|
was already done and didn't need doing in the first place. I have no idea
|
|
<br>
|
|
who did it, what they did, or how they did it so well. And you know what?
|
|
Jimmy <br>
|
|
crack corn and I don't care.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mr Wilhelm's Home]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Wilhelm sits on the couch. He has a newspaper and is talking to his <br>
|
|
wife, who's in another room.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
WILHELM: The gardener did a nice job planting the rose bushes, didn't
|
|
<br>
|
|
he dear?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
MRS WILHELM (O.C.): You planted the rose bushes, dear.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
WILHELM: I did?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<!-- BeginAd01 --><!-- EndAd -->
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|
MRS WILHELM (O.C.): Yesterday. You remember.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
WILHELM: (thinks for a moment) That's right. (pause) What's for dinner?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
MRS WILHELM (O.C.): We just ate. Did you forget to take your medicine?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Wilhelm can be seen struggling to recollect.<br>
|
|
<br>
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|
<br>
|
|
[Jerry's Apartment]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
A still pleased looking George is fetching a drink from Jerry's fridge.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
GEORGE: The point is, however it got done, it's done. So, any luck with
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|
<br>
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|
the car?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: No. The police have no leads (sitting on the couch arm) and I <br>
|
|
just found out today my insurance doesn't cover it.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Why not?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: They don't consider it stolen, if you wilfully give the guy the
|
|
<br>
|
|
keys.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
The door opens and Elaine enters.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
ELAINE: (to George) Hey.<br>
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|
<br>
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|
GEORGE: Hey.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (to Jerry) Hey. What did the detective say?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: They're looking.<br>
|
|
<br>
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|
GEORGE: I gotta go.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George leaves. The phone rings and Jerry picks up.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Y'hello.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE (V.O.): Mr Seinfeld?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Yeah.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE (V.O.): It's Detective McMahon...<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Elaine looks quizzical. Jerry mouths, 'It's the police'<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE (V.O.): ...I'm at the warehouse on Pier 38. Ah, I think you'd
|
|
<br>
|
|
better get down here.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Yeah, okay. (to Elaine) They may have found the car.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (makes surprise noise) Are the clubs in it? Ask him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Are there golf clubs in the back?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE (V.O.): We really can't tell. You better bring your service
|
|
<br>
|
|
records.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Pier 38 Warehouse]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The interior of the warehouse is gloomy and dank. There are cars and <br>
|
|
parts of cars arranged round the area, together with tools, welding gear,
|
|
etc. <br>
|
|
Detective McMahon stands beside a car-shaped object hidden under a white
|
|
sheet. <br>
|
|
Jerry and Elaine are led in by a young patrolman who looks queasy.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
YOUNG COP: Watch where you step. There's quite a bit of... grease. <br>
|
|
Detective, Jerry Seinfeld is here.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: How d'you do. Thanks for coming down.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: (indicating) This is Elaine Benes.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (explaining) We used to date, but now we're just friends.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: I see.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Yeah.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: I'm sorry to make you go through this, but we need to make
|
|
<br>
|
|
sure.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Well, what's going on? What is this thing?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: One of our patrolmen stumbled over this.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
He lifts the sheet, revealing what's beneath to Jerry and Elaine.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (horrified) Huuh! (she turns away and covers her mouth)<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Oh my God!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The young patrolman removes his cap out of respect for the victim.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: The block is nearly split apart. We found the overhead cams
|
|
<br>
|
|
thirty feet away. We can only hope the body sold for scrap.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Oh, my God.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: And we know it's a Saab. The angle on the Vee-6 is <br>
|
|
definitely ninety-two. The model is hard to determine because the drive
|
|
train is <br>
|
|
all burnt out.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: What is that smell?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: Look at the clutch.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
They look. Jerry and Elaine don't like what they see.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Uuh.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The patrolman cracks and leaves hurriedly, looking nauseous.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
YOUNG COP: Excuse me.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: Whoever did this didn't just dismantle it. I mean, they took
|
|
<br>
|
|
their time, they had fun. They were very systematic. They went out of
|
|
their <br>
|
|
way to gouge the sides of every piston, and the turbo was separated from
|
|
the <br>
|
|
housing and shoved right up the exhaust pipe.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Uhh<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Wait a second. Turbo? I didn't have a turbo.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: Your car's not a turbo?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: No, it's a nine-hundred S. (happy) It's a turbo, Elaine, a <br>
|
|
turbo!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (sobbing happiness) It's a tu-hur-bo.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Elaine and Jerry hug in happiness. In the background, another woman <br>
|
|
arrives.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
WOMAN: Excuse me, did you say turbo? Saab turbo nine-thousand? Is it...
|
|
<br>
|
|
(voice breaking) midnight blue?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DETECTIVE: (condolences) Yes ma'am.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman drives as he and Kramer give voice to their happiness.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER/NEWMAN: (singing) Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine <br>
|
|
bottle and cans in the trunk, nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine
|
|
bottles <br>
|
|
and cans. At ten cents a bottle and ten cents a can, we're pulling in
|
|
five <br>
|
|
hundred dollars a man. Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight bottle
|
|
and cans in <br>
|
|
the trunk, nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight bottles and cans.
|
|
<br>
|
|
We fill up with gas, we count up our cash!!...<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Their singing ends shambolically as they lose track of the lyrics. But
|
|
<br>
|
|
the pair still look gleeful.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Jerry's Apartment/Jerry's car]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The phone rings in Jerry's apartment. He picks it up.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Hello.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
TONY: Hey Jerry, it's Tony.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Tony, where are you?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The Saab is driving down a quiet country road at night.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
TONY: Aw look, I just want you to know that the car is fine. I got her
|
|
<br>
|
|
all fixed up. We're in a nice area, no potholes, no traffic. So there's
|
|
nothing <br>
|
|
to worry about. Okay? In fact, here, somebody wants to talk to you.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony holds the phone toward the dash and revs the engine a little. <br>
|
|
Jerry can hear the engine noise over the phone.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Tony, y-you better bring that car back!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
TONY: (angry) Nobody's giving anything back! You tried to take it from
|
|
<br>
|
|
<!-- BeginAd02 --><!-- EndAd -->
|
|
me, I don't forget that.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Tony, it is my car, and I want it back!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
TONY: Oh, your car. You want your car back!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Tony.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
TONY: Listen, that registration may have your name on it, Jerry. But <br>
|
|
this engine's running on my sweat and my blood.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony hangs up the phone.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: (exasperated) Where do I find these guys?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer is driving the truck along a highway in daylight.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: How much gas we got?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Three quarters of a tank.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman punches the numbers into a calculator.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: That's better than we estimated.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (smugly) That is seven dollars and twenty-two cents better.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
They give a smug little laugh.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Maybe we could uh, stop for a snack.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Ah, no, that's not in the budget.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Yeah well, the budget changed, you know. I mean, it might be a
|
|
<br>
|
|
good investment.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: That's not a good investment, that's a loss.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
A convertible black Saab passes the mail truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Hey, d'you see that car? Looks like Jerry's. I'm gonna check <br>
|
|
out that license plate.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
He accelerates the mail truck to close on the Saab, and leans forward,
|
|
<br>
|
|
straining to make out the plate.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, those are New York plates.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Is that Jerry's number?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: I don't know, but that's New York and we're in Ohio. Those are
|
|
<br>
|
|
pretty good odds.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer reaches under his seat, rummaging for something.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: What're you doing?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: I'm calling Jerry.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: On what?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Brought my phone.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
He pulls out his mobile and hits the speed dial for Jerry.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Jerry's Apartment/Mail Truck]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: (answering phone) Y'hello.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, hey Jerry, what's your licence plate number?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Why, what's up?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, well I think I spotted your car.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Oh my god, you're kidding. (dives for his wallet) Hang on a <br>
|
|
second. (reading from his registration) It's JVN 728.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (checks the car ahead of him) Hey, that's it! That's it. Hey,
|
|
<br>
|
|
uh look, we got him. We're driving right behind him in a truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Oh my god. Yeah, yeah, he said he brought it to the country.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Well we're in the country and we're right on his tail.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Good work Kramer, this is incredible.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, don't worry Jerry. We're right on this guy like stink on
|
|
<br>
|
|
a monkey! I'll check back with you.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Elaine's Office/Jerry's Apartment]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The phone rings in Elaine's office. She answers it.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Elaine Benes.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Yeah, it's me. Kramer found the car!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Oh my god, where is it?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: It's somewhere in the country, they're following 'em.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Are the clubs there?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: I don't know. They're tailing him. I'm waiting for them to call
|
|
<br>
|
|
me back.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Alright, I'm heading over right now.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Jerry's Apartment]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Elaine enters at a rush.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: What's the status?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Last check-in, they were still on him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Well, have they called the police yet?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: No, they won't call the police.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: What? Why not?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: They're afraid they'll get in trouble for misusing a mail truck.
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer doesn't want a record.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Kramer has a record.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Not a Federal record.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The phone rings. Jerry grabs the handset by the couch, Elaine picks up
|
|
<br>
|
|
in the kitchen.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck/Jerry's Apartment]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE/JERRY: Kramer?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: What's going on?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, nothing. We're still following him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Ahead of the truck, the black Saab indicates his intention to move onto
|
|
<br>
|
|
the off-ramp.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Wait a second, he's getting off. Yeah, he's gonna be going <br>
|
|
south on the one-thirty-five.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Keep following him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Alright, alright, I'll follow him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Hey, we can't follow him, we're going north to Michigan.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Yeah, hey listen, I can't. It's gonna be taking us out of our
|
|
<br>
|
|
way.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: I need those clubs.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Kramer, I want my car.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Well, I don't know what to do.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Hey, we got ten thousand deposit bottles here. I mean, this guy
|
|
<br>
|
|
could be going to Arkansas.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Keep following him Kramer. don't let me down.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Hey, don't listen to him. I mean, we can't afford a detour. Our
|
|
<br>
|
|
budget won't hold it.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Well, I don't know what to do man!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Kramer! Stay left. Left, left, left.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE/JERRY: Right. Go right!/South!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Alright! Alright. I'm getting off! I'm gonna go on the ramp.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer swerves onto the off-ramp at the last moment. Tyres squeal and
|
|
<br>
|
|
the truck sways.<br>
|
|
<!-- BeginAd03 --><!-- EndAd -->
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: I hope you realise what you've done. You've destroyed our whole
|
|
<br>
|
|
venture.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: This ramp is steep.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: All my work, my planning, my genius. All for nought.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Alright, look, we're pulling too much weight. He's getting away
|
|
<br>
|
|
from us here. (indicating) Take the wheel.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman reaches across and takes the steering wheel as Kramer gets out
|
|
<br>
|
|
of the driving seat.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: What're you doing?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (climbing though into the back of the truck) I'm gonna get <br>
|
|
something.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Are you crazy?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The truck swerves as Newman slides into the driving seat.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Keep your foot on the gas.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer shoves his way through the sackloads of bottles and cans.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Hey! You're not dumping those bottles back there, are you?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer slides open the rear door of the truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Hey Kramer, those have wholesale value! We could cut our <br>
|
|
losses.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer grabs a sack and heaves it out the back of the truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Look out below!!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Car horns can be heard as the sack lands in the carriageway. Kramer <br>
|
|
grabs another sack and hurls that out, with another yelled warning.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Yankee Stadium: Steinbrenner's Office]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Steinbrenner sits behind his desk. He's examining something on his <br>
|
|
desktop with a large powerful magnifying glass.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: (to himself) With this magnifying glass, I feel like a <br>
|
|
scientist.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
There is a tap at the door, and George cautiously enters.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: You wanted to see me, sir?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Ah, come in George, come in.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George strolls up to Big Stein's desk, looking more confident.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Uh, Wilhelm gave me this project you worked on.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: (smiling) Yes sir.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Let me ask you something, George. You having any personal
|
|
<br>
|
|
problems at home? Girl trouble, love trouble of any kind?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: (wondering where this is leading) No sir.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: What about drugs? You doing some of that crack cocaine?
|
|
<br>
|
|
You on the pipe?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: (worried now) No sir.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Are you seeing a psychiatrist? Bcause I got a flash for
|
|
<br>
|
|
you young man, you're non compos mentis! You got some bats in the belfry!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: What're.. What're you talking about?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: George, I've read this report. It's very troubling, very
|
|
<br>
|
|
troubling indeed. It's a sick mind at work here.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Two burly guys who are clearly medical orderlies come into the room <br>
|
|
behind George.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Okay, come on boys, come on in here. George, this is Herb
|
|
<br>
|
|
and Dan.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George regards the two guys, very nervously as they approach him and <br>
|
|
stand behind him, one on either shoulder.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: They're gonna take you away to a nice place where you can
|
|
<br>
|
|
get some help. They're very friendly people there. My brother-in-law was
|
|
there <br>
|
|
for a couple of weeks. The man was obsessed with lactating women. They
|
|
<br>
|
|
completely cured him, although he still eats a lot of cheese.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Herb and Dan take hold of George's arms. George gets panicky.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Ah, see, Mister.. I didn't write that report. That, that's not
|
|
<br>
|
|
mine.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Herb and Dan begin to drag the struggling George across the office <br>
|
|
toward the door.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Of course you didn't George. Of course you didn't write
|
|
<br>
|
|
it.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: I didn't do it! It..It just got done. I don't know how it got
|
|
<br>
|
|
done, but it did.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
As Herb and Dan haul George through the door, George makes his last <br>
|
|
stand, trying to get a hold on the doorframe with his feet. Eventually
|
|
he is <br>
|
|
dragged out into the corridor and vanishes from view.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
STEINBRENNER: Of course. Of course it got done. Things get done all the
|
|
<br>
|
|
time, I understand. (as George disappears) Don't worry, your job'll be
|
|
waiting <br>
|
|
for you when you get back. (banging his fist on his desk) Get better George.
|
|
<br>
|
|
Get better!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The Saab travels down a quiet country road at night, followed by the <br>
|
|
mail truck. Kramer is driving, Newman looks furious in the passenger seat.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (frustrated) Damn. I don't understand this. I've ditched every
|
|
<br>
|
|
bottle and can, and we still can't gain. It's like we're...<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
He looks across at the substantial bulk of Newman and a thought occurs.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: ...sluggish.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: I went through all those bottles and all those cans, for what?
|
|
<br>
|
|
What a waste. And I'm really gonna catch hell for those missing mailbags.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Heyy, wasn't that a pie stand back there?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (perks up) A pie stand? Where?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Oh yeah. Home-made pies, two hundred yards back.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Aww, c'mon, pull over, pull over will ya.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer pulls the truck into the roadside. As it halts, Newman sticks <br>
|
|
his head out the window to peer back down the road.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Where? I..I..I don't see it.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Well open the door, you get a better look.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman slides back the door and leans out.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: I don't see any pie...<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer plants his foot firmly in Newman's backside and heaves him out
|
|
<br>
|
|
of the truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: ...Aargh!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
As Newman lands heavily in the verge, Kramer slides the door shut and
|
|
<br>
|
|
drives away.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Kramer!!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: I'm sorry Newman, you were holding us back.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (after speeding truck) Kramer!!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
In the mail truck, Kramer picks up his phone and redials.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (shouting) Jerry! We've lost the fat man, and we're running <br>
|
|
lean. We're back on track, buddy!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Country Roadside]<br>
|
|
<!-- BeginAd04 --><!-- EndAd -->
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman wanders forlornly along the roadside at night. He tries to thumb
|
|
<br>
|
|
a ride from passing traffic, displaying his uniform insignia to drivers.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Federal employee. Federal employee.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Aside from a few blaring car horns, he gets no response. He continues
|
|
<br>
|
|
his trudge, a sour look on his face.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Countryside]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman struggles up a steep slope.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman pushes his way through a field of crops. He emerges from the <br>
|
|
vegetation and sees a farmhouse, its lights blazing. His face lights up.
|
|
He <br>
|
|
stumbles towards the welcoming lights, tripping and falling, before picking
|
|
<br>
|
|
himself up and running up to the building.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Farm]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman reaches the steps to the porch and stumbles up them. As he <br>
|
|
reaches the door, a scent catches his attention. Looking to the window,
|
|
he sees a <br>
|
|
pie left out on the window sill to cool. A craftier look comes to his
|
|
face. He <br>
|
|
turns back to the door and knocks. After a few seconds, it opens.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Hello stranger.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (a touch desperate) Ah, look, I..I'm sorry to bother you, but
|
|
<br>
|
|
I'm a US postal worker and my mail truck was just ambushed by a band of
|
|
<br>
|
|
backwoods mail-hating survivalists.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Calm down, now. Calm down. Don't worry, we'll take care of you.
|
|
<br>
|
|
This farm ain't much, but uh, you're welcome to what we have. Hot bath,
|
|
<br>
|
|
hearty meal, clean bed.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: Oh, thank you, sir.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Just have one rule. Keep your hands off my daughter.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Just then, the daughter in question slinks up behind the farmer. <br>
|
|
Blonde, twenty-ish, just one walking temptation.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Mail Truck/Jerry's Apartment]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer has the mail truck right behind Jerry's Saab as they race along
|
|
<br>
|
|
a quiet country road.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Jerry, we got 'im. I'm riding his tail. There's no escape. He's
|
|
<br>
|
|
running scared, buddy.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Jerry and Elaine are sitting on the couch, each with a phone handset.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: How's the gas situation?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (checks dial) I got enough to get to Memphis.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
In front of him, Tony reaches into the back seat of the Saab.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: He's reaching in back. He's grabbing at something.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony extracts a long, metallic object from behind himself.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: He's pulling out a gun! He's got a gun, Jerry!!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: Duck, Kramer! Duck!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer crouches as far as he can. Tony flings the object at Kramer's <br>
|
|
mail truck. It crashes against the windshield and bounces away.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: It's a golf club! It's no gun. He threw a golf club at me!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Those are JFK's golf clubs!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony hurls another club at the mail truck. Again, it bounces off the <br>
|
|
windshield, leaving some cracks.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Hey, I'm under fire here. (another club hits) I'm under heavy
|
|
<br>
|
|
fire here, boy. (another hit) Jeez! That was a five-iron!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Stop the truck, Kramer. Pick up the clubs!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: No, don't stop, Kramer. Keep going, don't let him get away.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: Wait a minute, I think he's done. (peers at the Saab) Oh no, <br>
|
|
he's taking out the woods!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony flings a heavy wood at the truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (noise)<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The Saab leads the truck down the road, with Tony hurling club after <br>
|
|
club over his shoulder and into the front of the truck.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (yelling at Tony) You'll have to do a lot better than that!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Tony hurls the golf bag at the truck. It slams solidly against the <br>
|
|
windshield, Kramer flinches, the truck swerves. The front wheel runs over
|
|
a club on <br>
|
|
the tarmac and the tyre bursts.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: (hearing the noises) What's happening!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The truck is rattling and lurching as it struggles along the road.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: This truck is dying. We're losing him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The Saab easily outpaces the truck and accelerates away. The truck <br>
|
|
staggers to a halt, giving out a death rattle. A cloud of steam and smoke
|
|
erupts from <br>
|
|
under the hood.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: I think we lost him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
JERRY: (disappointment) Dammit!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (quietly) Can you stop and pick up those clubs Kramer?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (subdued) Yeah, yeah, I'll get 'em.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Jerry hangs up.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Country]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer climbs out of the truck and looks back down the road. He kicks
|
|
<br>
|
|
the deflated tyre. Coming to the front of the truck, he picks a club off
|
|
<br>
|
|
the front bumper and pulls the broken shaft of another out of the radiator
|
|
<br>
|
|
grille.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer walks along the road with the bent and broken clubs. He comes <br>
|
|
upon the bag and transfers the clubs into it. Slinging it over his shoulder,
|
|
he <br>
|
|
continues on his way, picking up more battered golf clubs as he goes.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Farm]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman, the farmer and the farmer's daughter sit round the kitchen <br>
|
|
table. They are working their way through a generous meal.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Enjoy that mutton?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (mouth full) It's delicious mutton. This is uh, this is outta
|
|
<br>
|
|
sight. I would, I would love to get the recipe. It's very good.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The farmer's daughter is staring at Newman and toying with her fork, <br>
|
|
touching it to her lips and teeth. (It's difficult to be arousing with
|
|
cutlery, but <br>
|
|
she's giving it a pretty good shot.) Newman notices this and tries to
|
|
take a<br>
|
|
nonchalant sip from a glass, but it goes down the wrong way and he <br>
|
|
splutters.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: That cider too strong for you?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: No, no. I love strong cider. (for the farmer's daughter's <br>
|
|
benefit) I'm a big, strong, cider guy.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The farmer's daughter licks her lips.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Gonna be milking Holsteins in the morning, if you'd like to <br>
|
|
lend a hand.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (reluctant) You know, I don't really know that much about uh..
|
|
<br>
|
|
I don't have any.. I don't.. I don't think I know much about that.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Ahh, Susie here'll teach you.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The farmer's daughter goes wide eyed.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: Just gotta pull on the teat a little.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Susie and Newman half-laugh nervously.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
SUSIE: (suggestive) Nice having a big, strong, man around.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: You know, those mail bags, they get mighty heavy. I uh, I <br>
|
|
Nautilus, of course. (puffs out his chest)<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
The farmer looks at him oddly.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (breaking from his pose) Can I have some gravy?<br>
|
|
<!-- BeginAd05 --><!-- EndAd -->
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Institution]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George is using a payphone in the corner of the room. His free hand is
|
|
<br>
|
|
holding the waistband of his trousers. In the background are a couple
|
|
of <br>
|
|
inmates and visitors, and an orderly. Notable among them are Pop and Deena
|
|
Lazzari,<br>
|
|
previously seen in 'The Gum'.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: (desperate) Steinbrenner had me committed! I'm in the nuthouse!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DEENA: I'll be back same time next week, Pop.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: (quieter desperation) They took my belt, Jerry. I got nothing
|
|
<br>
|
|
to hold my pants up. (listens) Well, you gotta come over here now! Just
|
|
tell 'em <br>
|
|
what we talked about, how I, how I, I didn't do the project.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Deena spots George as she makes her way out of the room.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DEENA: George?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George looks like his salvation has arrived. He hangs up the phone.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DEENA: I see you're finally getting some help.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Aw, hoh, oh Deena, thank God. (he hugs Deena) Thank God you're
|
|
<br>
|
|
here. Listen, you gotta help me. You gotta tell these people that I'm
|
|
okay. <br>
|
|
You know that I don't belong in here.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
DEENA: George, this is the best thing for you. (she walks away)<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Yea... (sinks in) What? No, no!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
As he tries to follow Deena, the orderly grabs hold of him and <br>
|
|
restrains him.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
GEORGE: Deena! Deena, wait a... Deena, help!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
George is almost in tears and hops from foot to foot in frustration as
|
|
<br>
|
|
the orderly holds him. Pop Lazzari wanders over.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
POP: Is that little Georgie C? How's the folks? You still got that nice
|
|
<br>
|
|
little car?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Countryside]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Kramer approaches a familiar farmhouse. As he mounts the steps up to <br>
|
|
the porch, a commotion erupts inside the place. A gunshot rings out and
|
|
the <br>
|
|
farmer's daughter screams. Kramer flinches. The farmer can be heard yelling
|
|
<br>
|
|
angrily. The door is flung open and Newman runs out pulling up his trousers.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (screaming in panic) Aaah!! Aaah!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: What you doing?!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
NEWMAN: (pushing past Kramer) Kramer, help me! Help me!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Newman sets off running. From the door of the farmhouse comes the <br>
|
|
farmer, armed with a shotgun, closely followed by his daughter, whose
|
|
shirt is undone <br>
|
|
and hair is dishevelled.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
KRAMER: (takes one look and sets off after Newman) Jeez!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
FARMER: (taking aim) I told you to keep away from my daughter!<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
As Kramer and Newman reach the edge of the crops, the farmer fires a <br>
|
|
shot. Both Newman and Kramer leap in the air and run into the cover of
|
|
the crop. <br>
|
|
Before the farmer can fire again, his daughter pushes the barrel of the
|
|
shotgun <br>
|
|
downward, spoiling his aim.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
SUSIE: No daddy, you'll hurt him! I love him! (waving after Newman) <br>
|
|
Goodbye Norman, goodbye.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[Elaine's Office]<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Elaine is sitting with her head in her hands. Peterman enters at a <br>
|
|
rush.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
PETERMAN: (excited) Elaine! You found the clubs. That's wonderful news.
|
|
<br>
|
|
Where are they?<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (not the soul of happiness) Yep. Lemme get 'em for you, Mr <br>
|
|
Peterman.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
PETERMAN: Oh, I'll be inaugrating them this weekend, with none other <br>
|
|
than Ethel Kennedy. A woman whose triumph in the face of tragedy is exceeded
|
|
only <br>
|
|
by her proclivity to procreate.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Elaine puts the bag of clubs down beside Peterman. The clubs are, of <br>
|
|
course, wrecked. Elaine looks like she's expecting a poor reaction. Peterman
|
|
<br>
|
|
picks up a club or two, staring in disbelief at the twisted metal.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: The uh, the letter of, authenticity's in the side pocket there.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
PETERMAN: Elaine. I never knew Kennedy had such a temper.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: (spotting a chance to keep her job) Oh. Oh yeah. The only thing
|
|
<br>
|
|
worse was his slice. (she laughs nervously)<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
PETERMAN: See you on Monday.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
Peterman picks up the bag and heads for the door.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
ELAINE: Have a good game.<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
<br>
|
|
[END]</p>
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
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|
|
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|
|
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